


Tales from the Tinies

by Star_Miya



Series: The Thanalan Tinies on the path of Light and Shadow [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, mostly melancholy so far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Miya/pseuds/Star_Miya
Summary: Sometimes there's no particular theme or order, just slices of life and tiny fragments of a larger story.
Series: The Thanalan Tinies on the path of Light and Shadow [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591168
Kudos: 3





	1. Faith: ice

Love can melt one's heart or leave it cold and cracked like an ice floe. On the nights like this, though, Helvi is not bothered by cold, for love is the only light she's willing to fight for.

She knows she will always remembers these moments. The white covering the Providence Point and glimmering like the finest jewels. The moonlight shining upon the high towers of Ishgard, softening the sharp edges and soothing the Fury's belligerent disposition. Her own happy squeals at the sight of Menphina's symbol carved in stone. Her knight's pleased grin when she runs up to him, exclaiming: "She is here! It all makes sense!". Snow, falling gently from the sky, like flower petals.

Once, not so long ago, she could not help but wonder about her goddess' connection to ice, but now it feels like a distant past. Tonight she is holding the mysteries of the universe in her cold hands and her soul is overfilled with rapture. Everything is perfectly clear and there is nothing more to understand.

So she believes.

Little does she know, for the gods never fully reveal their ways to mortals. Still, right here, right now, this is enough.

And one day, perhaps, she too will earn her place in the Heaven of Ice.


	2. Returns and escapes

Stepping through the gates of Mist felt both familiar and new, like all Helvi's memories from before the Calamity.

The flow of time was not the only reason for it - the district itself changed a lot for the last five years. Among the typical Lominsan white walls and blue roofs, odd pieces of architecture stood out, as if they had grown in the woods or deserts. One did not have to cross the borders to enter the Black Shroud or Thanalan - paying one's neighbour a visit was enough to see a piece of the foreign lands.

Not as foreign as Thavnair, in theory, but a part of Helvi's mind found these lands - even La Noscea - almost unreal. Like ancient empires from bards' tales. And yet this was where she had spent most of her life - or was it? The memories were coming back slowly, gradually, and sometimes she felt like they came from an entirely different person. As if they got lost on their way and found the mind of another Seawalker, a wrong one.

Perhaps it was simply her who changed the most. Just like Mist.

Beside aunt Bryngeim, she did not recognize any of its current residents. What had happened to the people she had known since childhood? Reiha Nelhah, the one who had taught little Herlfryd Wintrachwyn of the ways of Menphina, was gone, killed by her own goddess' Bastard Hound; so was her husband Vehn, who once had left his sun tribe, lured by the moonlight. The Lolegouds, an Elezen family with a frightening number of children, were gone too, but they had simply moved to Gridania. And dad, obviously, but he'd died- how exactly? When? Years before the Calamity, that was certain, but Auntie did not mention that at all.

She did, however, have many other things to say.

"Honestly, child, you should've at least sent me a letter- let me know you didn't die," she said, as they were walking alongshore. "Or did you intend to walk around the world? Mayhap you take after your restless mother more than we thought."

Helvi was nodding meekly, looking for the right words, but they did not come easy to her. What could she say, anyway? _Forgive me, Auntie dear, but I forgot who I was and ran away in fear, no, I can't remember why_? It would sound ridiculous, if said out loud.

Strange, but she felt more lost in this place she used to call home than she had when looking for answers overseas. Was she supposed to feel like that about her family? Would it be the same, should she face her chosen sisters? Rinoire and Zezelyn - those names stood out in her thought like beacons. Hopeful. Precious. Faceless.

How much did she remember about them? How much had she forgotten?

"You could stay for a while, if not forever" suggested aunt Bryngeim, "Meet Ehme'li, when he comes back from Wineport, and visit his tavern. Set up your workshop next to mine. We've got plenty of room." She noticed her niece's hesitant look and her voice softened. "For dinner, at least?"

Helvi managed a smile. "Not tonight, I'm afraid. I have a-" Think quick, Seawalker. An adventure ahead? A scientific investigation? What would be... "A date".

"Brilliant! Then your date can stay for dinner too. And for breakfast."

"She's a busy person, so I can't promise anything," Helvi chuckled, trying her best not to sound as guilty as she felt. And hells, did she feel guilty... For wanting to leave already, for using Y'shtola as an excuse and for agreeing to take part in something way beyond her abilities. Since aunt Bryngeim retired from adventuring, it might be her niece's call to take over, but was either of them ready to accept it? Even if both of them changed, how far did these changes go?

"Dinner, child. And some rest."

Helvi nodded again, absent-mindedly, and threw a longing glance at the ferry dock. She disliked arguing with her own broken memory, but a disagreement with her aunt could be even worse.

They turned back towards the district, to find more old memories and perhaps make some new ones.


	3. Vengeful

The deed was done.

The sword dropped out of Helvi’s tired hand, as she watched them fall – the pitiful old man, consumed by ambition, and his knights, faithful to the end. Her enemies. Her everyday work. Just more primals to be eradicated.

She did not believe it would change anything, either for the better, or for the worse. Not for her, anyway; the sense of emptiness in her chest was not gone. But for Ishgard – she still had to think about Ishgard. There were people awaiting her return. And there was the armour-clad pair who had come with her, waiting right here, right behind her; and yet she found herself lacking the strength – or the will – to look around and face them.

“Frankly, I had hoped that mine would be the hand to end it,” the tone of Estinien’s voice defied the words he said; there was no resentment there, although one who did not know him well enough might fail to notice. “But knowing you, there was little chance of that.”

“You’ve already got your vengeance, you greedy man, so let the girl have hers,” Arianna could not help teasing him a little, no matter how well she knew him, but then turned her gaze at the Warrior of Light with the utmost concern.

Helvi was hardly listening to them, as she carefully placed Nidhogg’s Eye on the ground. She was hesitant to hand it back to Estinien, having not forgotten of her sister’s grim tale, but he clearly did not share her fears.

“All that remains is to take care of this burden,” he picked up the red orb, still glowing ominously, and glanced at Thordan’s sword lying in the distance, the other Eye still housed in its hilt. “You’re Haldrath’s chosen, Arianna, so it is you who should take its twin.”

“Peace. The dragons want peace now, remember?” the Duskwight rolled her eye at him; she had her own opinion about who had been chosen and why, but was too tired to go through it over again. “I don’t need that blasted thing and neither do you, so you better think of a way to get rid of them.”

“We should take them far beyond the reach of man and dragon both,” he decided and then continued in a low voice: “Then my toils shall finally be at an end.”

Arianna watched him produce his lance and approach the sword, muttering something that sounded like ‘not need it’, but might as well be ‘not needed’. She would join him right away, were it not for Helvi’s hand on her shoulder, not in the slightest as gentle as usual.

“They had no Echo for protection, unlike Ysayle,” the Warrior of Light looked around the battlefield. Her voice carried no emotion as she continued: “That means… They were all tempered, weren’t they?”

The sudden shivers down Arianna’s spine had little to do with the primals.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said cautiously. “Among us, you’re the expert, so you’re probably right about that.”

Helvi’s eyes narrowed, watching her fallen enemies slowly dissolve into aether. She squatted by the abomination that used to be the knight with a sword seemingly larger than himself – not unlike her own sword. “In that case… what we actually did,” she whispered, “was an act of… mercy?”

Then, as the knight’s dead body disappeared, she began to laugh.

The small, stifled chuckle she let out first grew more bitter and derisive. She fell to her knees and kept laughing – louder and sharper, until it was not laughter anymore, but a cry of anger and rancour.

And pain, so much pain.

After a while which felt like eternity her throat grew sore and a sudden silence surrounded her like walls. Walls she would not mind to stay within for another eternity, until–

Until–

“ESTINIEN!”

Arianna’s scream broke the silence and turned the Warrior of Light back from the path to nothingness. She leapt up without thinking – it would take a lot to make her sister raise her voice like that. Like something bad was going on, something more urgent than giving in to pain or exhaustion. There would be time for grieving later – not now, not when the Azure Dragoon was squirming in anguish, mouth open in a voiceless yell, Nidhogg’s Eye in each hand. Their crimson glow increased and surrounded him like a mist of blood.

“Are you out of your mind?! Put them down!” Arianna demanded, overtaken by fear – of him? Of what would happen next? Her grip on the trident shaft tightened, as her voice was drowned out by the sound let out of his throat. The sound of a hurricane, a raging storm.

Helvi reached for her sword–

There was no time – no time for doing what was right. One moment there was a man standing there; another moment – a dragon. The dragon.

Both women faced him in silence, ready for another battle. They had defeated him once, so they could do it again – or so they believed, forgetting how tired they were. But Nidhogg did not seem eager to fight; perhaps Estinien was still somewhere there, or perhaps he was just wary…

No! Helvi sensed another presence right behind her, the ancient being bound to her ever since their first encounter in Mor Dhona.

Nidhogg stared at them – or through them, at his sire – for a while and then he rose up, flapping his leathery wings, about to take off.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Arianna’s voice through clenched teeth broke the silence once again.

And then, having glanced at her sister for the last time, she jumped.

Nidhogg writhed with fury in attempt on throwing her off, but she held on tight to the horns on his head, back to her focused and collected self, challenging his fury.

“Rinoire, don’t!” what was supposed to be a shout, came out as a strangled squeal. But the Duskwight still heard it and looked down with a smirk, followed by a barely noticeable nod.

“You promised,” Helvi whispered, watching the dragon and his unwelcome rider fly away. “You promised you would stay alive – and you better keep that promise.”

In the end, though, she could only hope.

“What hath thy fury made of thee…?” Midgardsormr spoke in a low, monotonous voice that always sounded strangely soothing to her.

“Couldn’t help it,” she turned to him and sighed. He was addressing his enraged son, she did realize that, but his words resonated in her mind, as she looked back at her own actions and emotions that lead her here. Not only to Azys Lla, but also to a place in her own heart she had not been aware of before.

No more running blind, she thought, clenching her fists. Snap out of it, Seawalker. You can walk the road towards oblivion later.


	4. Faith: glow

Silver for the Lover. Copper for her fallen Hound. Gemstones for the hearts lit by love.

Once, she was commissioned to make twin music boxes which played the most beautiful melody when joined together - a gift from two happily bonded people to each other. And she did not accept any other payment than a refund for the jewels she had used, for the genuine love and happiness on the couple's faces was rewarding enough.

Another time, a pair of La Noscean children asked her to make a bracelet - a nameday present for their father, who worked hard to provide them all they needed, but refused to buy anything fancy for himself. They paid her with two handfuls of seashells - the prettiest seashells they had found on the beach - and in her eyes it was the best kind of payment anyone could get, so she bragged about it all over the city.

And that's how it goes. A pair of reading glasses for an elderly bookseller who shared her love for poetry. A sharp and shiny rapier for a scared girl who wanted to stop being scared and help those who helped her. Small but thoughtful gifts for friends. All made for love, with love.

Because of her trade, people often mistake her for a follower of Byregot and she laughs it off.


End file.
